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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28710168">would you wash my back (this once) and then we can forget</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervousn8/pseuds/nervousn8'>nervousn8</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Found Family Amongst Gods [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Also kind of, Blood, Broken Family, Gore, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past manipulation, Sort of temporary character death, after the jan 6th streams, but also slightly in them, but they're also really important for this, eret is only there briefly, fuck c!dream i will murder that man with my own two hands, im a tommy apologist &amp; a techno apologist this is a rocky road, implied child neglect, kind of, not that he gets the chance, only slightly, phil needs to get his shit together, technoblade is kind of sad but idk what he thought would happen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:55:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,583</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28710168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervousn8/pseuds/nervousn8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The claims Phil laid on them -Wilbur and Tommy- manifested differently. Wilbur got magic, twisting all around his already charismatic nature and making him near irresistible. </p>
<p>Tommy's claim, having been placed on him so young, manifested physically. He got <i>wings.</i></p>
<p>If only Phil had stuck around to teach him how to use them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>title is from mitski's class of 2013, but i'm sure you already knew that. the song fits too well for our boy</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tommyinnit &amp; Tubbo, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Found Family Amongst Gods [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2094159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Completed stories I've read, Cute MCYT</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>would you wash my back (this once) and then we can forget</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Clementine is meant to be the goddess of wind and sound, just a heads up.<br/>Clara is the goddess of space and time. she's the being that allows for world-hopping/creation. she also has a hand in making the gods</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tommy is dying.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knows it the same way he knows that Tubbo is dying right next to him. Knows it the same way he knows L’Manburg -all he has left of the Wilbur who still loved him- is gone for good. Knows it the same way he knows that he’ll be gone pretty soon, too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Which sucks. It sucks so fucking much because Tommy wants to </span>
  <em>
    <span>live.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s only sixteen. He’s only sixteen and he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>dying,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and all he’s ever wanted is the chance to </span>
  <em>
    <span>live.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy gave up everything for L’Manburg, for these people who never loved him, and all he ever asked in return is the chance to be a kid. To mess up without people trying to teach him “lessons” that leave him all tangled inside. To learn from his mistakes in the way kids are supposed to- without being smacked around and starved and exiled and killed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This is three lives, now. Three lives and he’s gone, dead, never to be heard from again. This is Tubbo’s third life, too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy wishes, more than anything, that Tubbo would get to live.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Dream had activated his final TNT duplicator, while demons rained hellfire from every direction, Tubbo had gotten caught in the explosion. And Tommy refused to leave his side, so he’d gotten thrown over the edge of the crater that used to be L’Manburg with him. He won’t ever forget the way Tubbo screamed as they fell. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy curses Phil, his awful surrogate father, the God of fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Death,</span>
  </em>
  <span> for giving him wings and then never teaching him how to use them. For promising he’d teach Tommy how to fly and then never coming home. Because when they’d fallen, Tommy had the means to fucking save them and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t matter that the lack of use made his wings small, or that Dream had cut his flight feathers while he was in exile. It doesn’t matter that the weak, faded yellow appendages wouldn’t have been able to hold their combined weight even if he did know how to fly, because if he’d known then his wings would have been big enough to hold them, and even if Dream had cut his flight feathers, he still would have been able to glide them down to the bottom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, Tommy’s wings had only slowed their descent. They did more harm than good. All his wings had saved them from was a quick death, and now they’re both broken and bleeding in the bottom of the crater. Even in his last moments, all Tommy could seem to cause was suffering. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Back when they were small, Wilbur often said that Tommy’s wings reminded him of those of a canary. Soft gold where they emerged from his shoulder blades dusting off into white as the color reached his primaries, they were meant to symbolize joy and well-being and </span>
  <em>
    <span>freedom.</span>
  </em>
  <span> When they’d gotten older, and they’d been exiled to Pogtopia and Wilbur had slipped into madness, he’d still said they reminded him of a canary. But now he was a canary in a cage. Trapped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s trapped now, bleeding to death at the bottom of the crater. So much of him is broken, and there’s blood in his throat, and it’s hot and choking him. He turns his head to spit it out and there’s Tubbo, lying on his side, eyes wide and cheeks wet with tears. He’s all burnt and bruised and he’s bleeding, and Tommy knows he’s dying, too, and he wishes he weren’t. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Tommy whispers, words catching on the bones poking into his lungs. “I’m so sorry, Tubbo-” and then he’s coughing, spewing blood all down his chin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, too,” Tubbo whispers back, hiccuping himself into a coughing fit as well. He rolls as far as he can once he’s done, and Tommy stretches what little of himself he can, and their bloody, broken fingers lock. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Without the explosions and the Withers making noise, it’s almost deathly silent. So silent that Tommy can hear the conversation from above, even though that doesn’t seem like it should be happening. That doesn’t feel right at all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A moth lands on the bend of his mangled wing. The brown specks of her body contrast heavily with the fragile white bone poking out of bloodied yellow feathers. Tommy wishes the other Gods loved him as much as Clementine did; she’s always been so kind to him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Help,” Tommy whispers, not even trying to turn his head to the sky. Clementine will carry his pleas to someone. Maybe they’ll even save Tubbo. “Please, we need help.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If moths could cry, Tommy thinks Clementine might. She flutters up into the air and keeps rising, disappearing over the lip of the crater in a few moments. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s all wet, and the blood that’s pooling all down his back is too warm and thick. Tubbo’s covered in it, too. Tommy squeezes his fingers as best he can, looking into his best friend’s eyes and waiting for him to squeeze back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Clementine is going to get help, Tubbo,” he whispers, words slow and choking as he speaks around blood. “They’re gonna save you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo still doesn’t answer, glassy eyes staring at something just past Tommy’s shoulder. He still doesn’t squeeze back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s alone, bleeding to death amongst the remains of Wilbur’s dream, beside the remains of his best friend. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s terribly fitting, isn’t it? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sun is all gone, and it’s raining, and lighting is dancing across the sky. He can hear Ghostbur yelling at Phil from all the way down here, can hear Phil’s bullshit excuse, and Tommy </span>
  <em>
    <span>weeps.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His chest spasms, and he’s breathing more blood than air as he sobs, and it still hurts. It stings him all over, sliding up and down his shattered bones, making burning homes inside his crumpled organs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What had Phil said, earlier? What was his reason? He’d told Ghostbur it was about turning good people bad, corrupting them, but he was talking about Wilbur. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Doesn’t he know that it was always </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dream</span>
  </em>
  <span> behind everything? Dream gave him the TNT. Dream put the thought of blowing up L’Manburg into his head. Dream wanted chaos, and he pulled on every string he had until he achieved it. Didn’t Phil know that? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Since I was forced to kill my own son!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s what Phil had said. That was his reason. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy wonders, for only a moment, if Phil will learn that he’d killed both of his sons. He wonders if Phil still even thinks of him as a son.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders if he ever had.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Death must be making Tommy reflective, even as his vision starts to tunnel and he stops trying as hard to breathe. It must be making him reflective because all he can think about is how he got here, and how if Phil had just left him in that village when he was young, he never would have been here. This never would have happened if Phil had just minded his own business.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it wouldn’t have happened, either, if Phil had loved them both as much as he loved Technoblade. His closest friend, The Blood God.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s someone peering over the edge of the crater, netherite helmet reflecting in a flash of lightning. Tommy wonders who it is.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he’d been young, freshly claimed and still unsure of his place in the house at the edge of the woods, Tommy had done everything Wilbur did. He held his fork the way Wilbur did, he said certain words the way Wilbur did- he was Wilbur’s shadow. Phil liked Wil, so if Tommy was like him, Phil would like him, too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then he’d met Technoblade, and Tommy figured out - with ease far too mature for a five-year-old - that Phil liked Techno most. So he’d attached himself to Techno’s hip, and he’d demanded Techno teach him everything he knew, and The Blood God had still done it even though he said no. Technoblade still sat with him while he colored pictures and took him outside to spar. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘The Blade!’ That’s all I ever was to you: a weapon!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy wonders if Techno remembers any of that. He wonders if Techno knows how desperately Tommy had wanted him to like him, too. He wonders if he remembers when Tommy broke his arm shortly after his wings came in, and the only reason he’d calmed down was because Techno had told him the scar would look cool. He wonders if Techno remembers when Tommy was little, when he’d have nightmares, and he’d climb on tiny limbs into Techno’s bed because that was the only place he felt safe. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even after Phil had stopped coming back, and Techno had stayed gone with him, Tommy never wanted anything more than for them to like him. He never stopped waiting for them to come back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> someone hisses, and when Tommy blinks, Eret of all people is kneeling beside him. They tug their shades off and stare down at him with wide, white eyes, and Tommy cracks a smile even though he knows this is it for him. “Tommy- man, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Tommy whispers, “I’m not alone, now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m right here, Tommy, I promise. I’m not leaving.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eret, even though they’d betrayed him all that time ago, really is such a good person. Tommy knows enough about regret to know what it looks like, and Eret is swimming in it. He giggles a little bit, and it devolves into choking, and then he’s throwing up blood all over the side of his face and his wing and Eret’s legs. Death really is making him think too much.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Phil!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eret cries, shouting at the heavens. Their voice catches on tears. “Phil, Tommy’s hurt!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t even mention Tubbo, and the water that had been burning its way out of Tommy’s eyes makes a reappearance. He can still see Tubbo from here, can see how empty those eyes are. His fingers are slowly going cold.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Ghostbur who comes next, sizzling in the rain, tears of gold dribbling down his cheeks. He doesn’t even say anything, just sinks to his slowly fading knees by Tommy’s head and reaches out a blue stained hand to trace his face. His fingers come away blood red, and the ghost cries harder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur, when they were younger, was nothing but kind to him. They’d fought like brothers do, and the constant vying for Phil’s attention had driven a rift between them at times, but Wilbur had raised him. Wilbur taught him everything he knew. Ghostbur is all of the good parts of Wilbur, even if he is just a shell, and Tommy loves him for it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Knowing what he knows about Dream, he thinks he might even forgive Wilbur for what he did. Not to him -that abuse can never be excused- but he understands why Wilbur’s sick brain would have been convinced that blowing up L’Manburg was a good idea. He’s not mad at him for that anymore.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s dying. He knows that. He doesn’t know how long he’s been dying for, or how much longer he has left, but he won’t live in a world without Tubbo. The only other person he would’ve stayed for was Wilbur, and he’s gone, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t want to die, not anymore. But there’s no life for him without Tubbo and Wilbur. Not here.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eret takes hold of their clasped, bloodied hands, between their own bruised ones, and they smile even though Tommy thinks they might be crying. Ghostbur places one of his hands on top of Eret’s, and the other comes to rest in the bloody mess of Tommy’s hair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy dies there, mangled beyond saving, amidst traitors to a nation that never loved him anyway. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo grins at him when he opens his eyes, hovering a few inches above the ground.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I met a nice lady named Clara, and she said Wilbur will be here soon!” He exclaims, gesturing to a large astronaut woman that Tommy remembers for reasons he can’t name. Tubbo’s somehow bouncing in place. “She’s going to take us somewhere cool! With </span>
  <em>
    <span>bees!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy laughs, letting Tubbo pull him to his feet, and he chases happily after his best friend amongst the stars. “What’re we waiting for, big man? Let’s go!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil hits the ground running, skidding to a halt mere feet from the corpse of his only living son. His wings puff up as the adrenaline pumps through him, but there’s nowhere to direct it. It winds up inside of his chest and catches his throat in bloodied hands, sucking the air from his lungs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Being the God of Death means he knows when someone dies. When </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> dies. But one of the first things he'd mastered was pushing away the constant influx of information on who was dead and how. He’d simply wandered the worlds collecting each lost soul he came upon, sending them on to wherever it was they were meant to be. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But this is different. There’s no blocking it out, no detachment as he collects yet another soul. Because this is Tommy, and Tommy is </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hadn’t he done this as a lesson- as </span>
  <em>
    <span>revenge</span>
  </em>
  <span> for making him kill his older son? Hadn’t that been why he did it? So how could it have gone so wrong? How could it have-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>How had he failed </span>
  <em>
    <span>again?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Technoblade, having finally made it down using Eret’s poorly put together staircase, slows to a halt a few paces behind his friend. He doesn’t have to see it to know what’s happened, but he still does. Soft yellow feathers dyed blood red, punctured by white bone, caked in dirt and soot. Broken armor slicing into pale skin. Each ounce of blood leaking out of Tommy’s body is another tear shed by the voices in Techno’s head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They weep for him, the little boy who used to drown himself in Techno’s cape. The boy who put on his crown and laughed when it slipped over his eyes. The nuisance who begged he be taught how to fight mobs and then crawled into his bed when he had nightmares about them. The child he and Phil had left, and the war-hardened teenager Techno came back to in that ravine. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy had betrayed him. Tommy had betrayed him and he’d used him, and no matter how angrily a small few of the voices cry that </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, you were supposed to protect him, he was a child,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he needed to be taught a lesson. He needed to learn </span>
  <em>
    <span>-but he was just a child-</span>
  </em>
  <span> that betraying The Blood God wasn’t something he could just get away with. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He was just a boy,” Ghostbur whispers, voice echoing yet somehow soft in its grief. “He was just a boy, and you killed him. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed him.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And they had, hadn’t they? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ghostbur disappears not long after Tommy and Tubbo are laid to rest beside his own grave. He doesn’t even say goodbye, but Phil can feel the fading blue claim sever itself as he stares blankly at the old green bucket hat he’d so carelessly placed in storage. Tommy never came back as a ghost, so there’s no red claim to go with it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil wonders, briefly, if this is his punishment. And then he never stops wondering.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Somewhere, in a grassy field full of too many cobblestone structures, Wilbur's eyes pop open.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wilbur! Tommy knocked me off his tower!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You bitch! I did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello. this was Not Happy and not super found family-y but ive been thinking a lot about c!phil and as much as i like sbi found family dynamics, me and that man are going to throw HANDS if he doesn't own up to how shit of a father he's being. if he gives c!ranboo a false father figure and then fucks him up too i am COMMITTING WAR CRIMES i refuse to see another kid get hurt by someone who is too much of a piss baby to address their previous parenting failures</p>
<p>once again, my gods au doesn't follow any particular canon. my brain just gives me ideas and i puke them into words instead of sleeping, then submit them to the internet to feel validated. its 4:30am and something just made a scary noise outside my window HELP<br/>update it was a car</p>
<p>anyway choo choo tommy wings</p></blockquote></div></div>
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